


Growing Vegetables and Affections

by BrynTWedge



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cooking, Crowley talks to plants, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, garden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 09:45:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19354480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/pseuds/BrynTWedge
Summary: Crowley wants to do something nice for his angel, and so decides to grow some vegetables in a garden allotment outside of London.His first attempt did not work out.He tries again, changing his method, determined to make Aziraphale happy.





	Growing Vegetables and Affections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecount](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecount/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to Camillo!

Crowley picked the vegetables on the allotment he had out of the city. They were large and flawless, as he’d expected. It had taken a little longer to instil the fear of ‘God’ in them than his houseplants, but it had been effective. His was the most lush and pristine patch in the area. He’d done a small demonic miracle to keep pests out, and so he did have a slight advantage.

 

He never had really bothered to learn how to cook. Food didn’t interest him like it did Aziraphale. He’d eat sometimes, more to make his angel feel comfortable when they shared a meal (‘ _it’s called sharing for a reason, Crowley_ ’), but other than that he didn’t see the point really. Now, however, he was finding himself in need to learn.

 

Crowley loved the internet. He loved the chaos and bickering over insignificant things that seemed to flourish from the anonymity. He also was rather pleased with how easy it was for humans to gain knowledge these days. Ignorance was something he never understood – it seemed Heaven only wanted to keep people ignorant to keep power over them.

 

Once home, he looked up a recipe for a vegetable stir-fry. It seemed simple enough. He was wrong.

 

It turned out, that just putting more fire under the wok didn’t cook the vegetables faster. And that it actually did matter if the vegetables were sliced. The stick the human used in the video to stir the mix was also not optional, and tossing the pan took more skill than it looked – to keep the contents in the wok, that is.   

 

Crowley shouted at the vegetables. He then burnt them to a crisp in spite. He took out the remaining produce, thankful that he had the foresight to pick more than he needed, and started again. Aziraphale would be there soon, and he was damned if he was going to let this beat him.

 

The plate was hot as Crowley placed it before Aziraphale. His face was aglow with that same devoted look he’d give Crowley through the millennia.

“This looks scrumptious,” Aziraphale commented.

“I’m glad you think so.”

 

Crowley couldn’t help but stare as his angel took a forkful into his mouth. “How is it?”

“Oh, oh dear.”

Crowley’s heart fell. “Not good? Is it the sauce?” he asked, hoping that he could place the blame on the human recipe.

“No, no, the sauce is lovely. It’s… well, it’s the vegetables. They taste, uh, stressed.”

 

Crowley frowned. What did that even mean?

“I do hope you haven’t been giving your horticultural advice to any famers, my dear,” Aziraphale said, waving the fork around.

“Why would you think that?”

“It’s just the sort of taste you’d get from terrified plants like those poor ones out in the other room.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I assure you I am not.”

“No one can taste the state of mind of the food they’re eating.”

“Well I can.”

“So you don’t like it, is that what you’re saying? Fine.” Crowley snatched the bowl away from Aziraphale and thundered back to the kitchen sink. He knew he was being overly defensive because it had actually _mattered_ to him, but he couldn’t help it. All he could do was hope Aziraphale just thought it normal demonic behaviour.

 

“Oh, it’s fine, dear. Did you perhaps order something else?”

“Order?”

“Yes, from the restaurant.”

 

Crowley looked down at the sink. “No,” he mumbled. He knew he shouldn’t have tried hard, because it just made it easy to feel bad about it. He’d planned to reveal to Aziraphale that he’d grown and cooked the meal for him once the angel told him how nice it was.

 

“It’s ok, dear.” Aziraphale walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. I’d say it was good enough to eat, before you tossed the plates in the sink. But, by some miracle, I think there’s someone coming to deliver some more.”

“You don’t know where it came from,” Crowley sneered.

“True, but I’m sure this’ll be just as lovely.” Aziraphale smiled brightly, trying to make Crowley feel better. He just didn’t know why he was upset so much.

 

~

 

Crowley wanted to take out his frustrations on the garden. He desperately did. How dare they grow distastefully and make him look the fool? However, he took a few steadying breaths as he stared at them, trying to calm down. Apparently, shouting at them is going to just make the problem worse.

 

He stepped closer to the plants. He crouched down and touched a leaf gently. “I’m sorry for shouting at you,” he said to it, feeling the bad taste of the words on his tongue. He made himself continue. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I-I just wanted everything to be perfect for my angel. I was stressed and took it out on you.”

 

He found that the more he spoke, the more true the words were and the easier they were to say. “I really do want to make a great dinner for him still. I promise not to shout anymore; would you all like that?”

 

He could sense the tension leave the plants around him. They stopped shaking. “If you could still do your best to make the most lovely fruits and vegetables for my angel, I would appreciate it. I’m going to try again.”

 

Crowley picked up a watering can and sprinkled water over the plants. “Are you hungry?” he asked them, emptying the can. “I have some food for you.” He then sprinkled some slow-release fertiliser over the ground. He could feel the relief of his garden.

 

It was strange. He kept up his appearance as the God to be feared with his houseplants, but with his secret garden, he endeavoured to be kind. At first he just did what he imagined Aziraphale would do, thinking there was no way for him to do it naturally. After some time, he found that he actually enjoyed treating them with care. The garden was no longer stark and tense; instead, he felt the peace and life of the area as he inspected them.

 

It was only now, after continuously treating the plants well for months, did he understand how Aziraphale could taste the stress and fear in his plants. He, a demon, could feel the difference in them. Had anyone asked him, he’d have denied it flat out. A demon was not supposed to enjoy peace and tranquillity, and was not supposed to take pride in raising a garden with kindness. But then, he’d never really been like the others.

 

The plants grew larger, and produced vegetables in huge sizes and quantities. It was almost a shock to Crowley. He’d organised another time for Aziraphale to come over in a month, when he anticipated his crop was ripe for the picking.

 

“Look at you all,” he praised as he picked his harvest. “You’ve all done great.”

 

The plants seemed pleased. Crowley gave them some more food – a seaweed spray – as thanks. He managed to collect a large basket of vegetables, all more vibrant looking than before, and another bucket of fresh salad leaves and spinach.

 

He’d also been practising cooking. He decided to do a vegetable lasagne with a cream sauce. Aziraphale did so love creamy and cheesy things. He’d made the pasta sheets himself even. There’d been a lot of shouting at first, but he found it innately satisfying to see the dough that had annoyed him be flattened by two heavy bars as he cranked the handle.

 

He chopped the pumpkin, zucchini, onion, garlic, red peppers, spinach, and aubergines. He managed to get the sauce done in the pot (the remaining wine being drunk himself), and began to layer the food in the dish. A flourish of cheese on top, and it went into the oven.

 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called as he walked up to the kitchen.

“Aziraphale!” he cried in answer. He beamed, letting himself look upon his angel lovingly. “Have a seat.” He indicated to the table.

“Well, this looks lovely,” Aziraphale commented as he took his usual seat. “You’ve gone all out here, Crowley.”

“You’re worth it,” he commented casually, but he felt warm inside seeing the look his angel gave him.

 

“Smells divine,” Aziraphale said as he breathed in deeply.

“I assure you, it’s not,” Crowley answered with a chuckle, pouring their wine. He’d performed a minor demonic miracle to keep the slices of lasagne at perfect temperature on the table.

 

They tapped their glasses together. Aziraphale took a fork to his mouth and Crowley watched in anticipation. “Oh, darling, this is exquisite! The flavours are so rich.”

“Good?”

“Very.” Aziraphale shot him an indulgent look. “The vegetables are wonderful.”

“I’ll thank them for you.”

 

Crowley looked smug at Aziraphale’s curious expression. “It’s because of you that they’re better.”

“I say, I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I made this… for you.”

“I… really?”

 

Crowley ducked his head and nodded. “I grew the vegetables for it.”

“Crowley, my dear, you did?”

“Mhm. I tried before… made you a stir fry. I-I wasn’t very good at it, I admit, and you didn’t like it.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale blushed as he remembered his reaction. “Why didn’t you–”

“Didn’t matter,” Crowley interrupted. “I treated the plants better after that. Asked them to make a nice harvest… for you.”

 

Aziraphale’s smile was bright as he reached out for Crowley’s hand. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Anything for you, Angel.”


End file.
